Chapter 216: Out of Reach
’Ugh... what the hell...?’
Sunny almost killed March right then and there. Unfortunately, no amount of murder would erase the imagery of her words. He walked into the training room once more, except this time, he was completely alone.
Before he left, he told March some misleading statements on what he knew about Mongrel. The first thing he did was vehemently insist that he was a man, and was not having relations with a metal sarcophagus. Then, to seperate Sunny’s real identity with Mongrel’s, he talked about the Mantle of the Underworld, stating that he believed that it wasn’t the only one of it’s kind.
Sunny had suspected that there may be more armor similar to the Mantle of the Underworld, if not outright copies. The reason for this was because he knew that Saint, his Shadow, wasn’t the only one of her kind. In fact, her people must have been part of the Daemon’s army — if not the entire army itself.
When he pointed that out, it seemed like March had completely forgotten that his armor was similar to Mongrel’s, despite having pointed it out in a video a while back. Then, she began to compliment her own deductive skills...
Either way, Sunny’s identity was safe. He didn’t want people to know he was an intergalactic criminal. Telling the authorities ’I forgot’ probably wouldn’t cut it.
Sending out his shadows to keep watch in case someone stepped in, he commanded the Soul Serpent to shape itself into a weapon and walked to the middle of the training room. He was impatient to cement the knowledge of the battle styles he had absorbed today.
Sunny started to perform various katas, executing each one slowly at first, and then quicker, and quicker, and quicker still. Soon, he moved with incredible speed, his lithe and flexible body almost leaving afterimages behind. Lean muscles were rolling under his pale skin, which soon glistened with sweat.
Sunny fluidly shifted from one style to another, his movements simultaneously firm and flowing, sharp and gentle, clear and unpredictable. The Soul Serpent flowed from one form to another, too, as insidious and shapeless as the person who wielded it. It was as though Sunny was performing a strange, graceful, viciously complicated dance.